Printed Terrain

Wedged my shoulder under the hanging corner of the bottom magazine. Heavy coated stock. I braced my boots into the carpet pile and levered the thick page upward. It turned over with a soft whoosh of displaced air. On the open spread: a crisp photograph of an alpine road cutting through pine ridges. No movement, purely static print. I knelt on the slick paper, tracing the fine halftone ink patterns with my padded mitt. Cool, smooth surface underfoot. Wide perspective lines tapering toward the margin. A massive sector compressed into a flat sheet. I sat against the curled fold and studied the ridges in silence.